(The Dark Servant)Midnight Matters by A. Ellas (young adult books to read .txt) 📗

displeased over the amount of work Scorth’s hide would require. Scorth thought about making Jisten help. All he had to do was wave his wings and the man was his.

The Sun Temple emptied out to the least novice and lowliest guard to rescue the Ylion from the clutches of the evil dragon. The evil dragon landed in the plaza and began to groom his claws. He radiated a satisfied aura of having recently eaten that the sun priests were sure to misinterpret.

* * * *

“Do tell the onslaught of panicked sun priests and sun guards that will arrive in about thirty minutes that I’m fine,” Forael told the guards. He knew where the guest suite was so he hiked up his robes and ran there. The door to the suite was open, so he went right in. The reception hall was empty, as was the parlor. Forael entered the bedroom, and then followed the noise into the bathroom. Tebber and Jisten were holding Rak down as they tried to keep the blood under control. There were at least a half dozen blood amulets hung on various fixtures.

“The bleeding won’t stop, Ylion,” a white-faced Jisten told Forael.

“Unfortunately, I am not a mystic or a seer. I need to examine a patient to determine their wounds. And examining my cousin would have disastrous consequences,” Forael said bitterly.

“Scorth said the injury was inside,” said Jisten, blushing.

“Inside what, son?” Forael asked patiently. When Jisten’s blush covered his entire face and neck in a deep purple, Forael could guess. “No, surely not.”

Jisten stopped holding Rak down and simply held him close. Rak clung to him and neither would meet Forael’s gaze.

“You have to do something,” wailed Tebber. “It’s not stopping! Heal him!”

“That would be unwise, if you wish this building to remain standing,” Forael said. At Tebber’s blank look, he added gently, “The day does not heal the night. The sun scalds the moons, and the moons fight back. Captain, please get my healing kit from the throne room. I keep spares all over the palace.”

“There’s a full kit in the parlor,” said Tebber. He dashed off to get the kit, returning in a short time with the black leather satchel marked with a teal glyph.

“Excellent. Do you have morphea?” Forael asked. At Tebber’s affirmative, he said, “Mix ten drops into some wine, and get S’Rak to drink it, please. Jisten and I will rinse off our patient, I want a clear view.”

Tebber took the morphea bottle from the satchel and returned with a goblet of the doctored wine while Forael and Jisten rinsed the blood off Rak by dumping a basin of water over him.

Jisten took the goblet from Tebber and boldly stroked Rak’s cheek. “For the pain. Drink.” Rak opened his eyes and looked at Jisten for a moment before he drained the goblet.

“I have to check him,” said Forael, worried. “This is a lot of blood. Foolish if I miss an external injury. But how to touch him?” The Ylion fretted over the limitations imposed on them.

“There has to be something that we can do,” Jisten said. Inspiration struck. “Tell me what to do. I’ll be your hands, at least for the exam?”

Under Forael’s direction, Jisten ran his hands over Rak’s legs, feeling, probing, for any source of the bleeding. Jisten made his way up to the thighs. Rak moaned, whimpered, sobbed, and squirmed.

“I’m sorry,” said Jisten, but he didn’t stop.

“Please do not,” Rak gasped out, over and over. “Please do not.”

“We must find all the sources of bleeding,” Forael told Rak, trying to gain some of his attention. Jisten reached Rak’s blood covered buttocks but Rak twisted away. Tebber clung to the Loftoni, forcing him to endure the captain’s gentle touch. The panic in Rak’s eyes could only have one source and Forael grew angrier with every whimper.

Jisten sang a soft hymn to Si’Yeni, perhaps in hopes of soothing Rak. He began to glow red-gold. First his feet turned gold, and then it moderated to reddish gold on his calves, like a sunset on a summer’s night in the desert.

“Keep singing, son,” Forael said.

The hymn washed over Rak and calmed him. He stopped struggling and fell silent, clearly listening to Jisten’s hymn. He relaxed so much that Tebber was able to let go.

“A plea for healing to Si’Yeni,” Forael observed. “And She is answering.” He touched Jisten, curious. The sunset colors swept over his arm. He observed calmly as the sunset colors flowed down his arm and into his torso. He waited for it to flow into his other arm and hand. “Cousin, look at the captain’s hair.”

“I see stars in it.”

“I think your lord has agreed to this. I am going to touch you now, cousin,” Forael said. He touched Rak. A light touch, to the shoulder. Nothing happened. “Hold him tight, Tebber. I need to see how extensive the tear is and if I’ll need sutures or just packing.”

Tebber took a deep breath and tightened his grip. Jisten stroked Rak’s wings as he sang, keeping the Loftoni calm.

“Easy cousin, this is for healing, not for hurting,” soothed Forael as his fingers drew near. “You must know that. Do not fight me like a frightened horse.”

Rak shuddered. “ Com’do oper’non,” he gasped. His unreasoning terror had caused him to lapse into Zafirin slave cant.

“Know that I am here to help you, just as you help your frightened animals,” Forael said and then he probed.

Rak screamed, thrashed, and part of him reacted. Forael hated to see those beautiful wings flailing, even as they tried to bash him away. Jisten bravely refolded them to Rak’s back and held them there. Forael silently cursed the way of the world that destroyed those men who stood for what was right, whether they be House of Night or House of Day.

“I’ll need to suture.” Forael ran his hand along Rak’s backside so as not to startle him with the needle. Rak hissed. Forael murmured, “Sorry cousin,